I have all these thoughts, roaming round in my head.
I wish to get them out, but I keep them hidden instead.
I want to talk, to set them free.
But I’m afraid, scared that others will judge me.
But if I can’t talk, I feel like I might explode.
Maybe I can find a way, some other type of mode.
Paper and pen, that’s how I’ll do it.
Written word, it’s the only way I see fit.
Poems and stories, that’s what works best for me.
Sometimes I write about things, that only I seem to see.
The wonders of the world, the ones others ignore.
Those I’ve tried to tell, they seem to find it a bore.
Observations that I sometimes make.
Beauty for beauty’s sake.
The sparkling of the stars.
The sound of passing by cars.
Lights flying by.
Clouds floating in the sky.
Grass moving with the breeze.
Fish, swimming gracefully through the seas.
I write them down, so as not to forget.
It also gets them out, helping me not to fret.
Forgetting my troubles, getting my thoug